


Keep Things Interesting

by messyshower3



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Moonshine, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2731724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messyshower3/pseuds/messyshower3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the mission to Mount Weather is a success, the Grounders and council at Camp Jaha need to refine the peace treaty for permanence. So for once, the kids have a little time to relax... and naturally, they throw a party. </p><p>Bellamy and Clarke get a little to 'relaxed' playing pong, and consequentially, a little too relaxed with each other. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monty's Moonshine

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously just the beginning, but it's my first time posting anything like this so feedback is much appreciated :)  
> Did I get the characters right? Is it just plain boring? etc. etc. 
> 
> Thanks a bunch!!

"Okay, okay, watch this." Bellamy balances the metal piece on his tongue. 

"Nuh-uh. Nice try, hotshot, but you cannot possibly-"

With one flick, the piece makes a small arc to the table before ringing off the surface and into one of Clarke's makeshift cups.

She gapes. "How in the hell...?"

Bellamy looks smug as ever, a proud smile all the way to his eyes. It's been a while since he's been able to relax like this... but with the 47 back, the grounders finally at bay, and the adults busy discussing the final peace terms, he figures it's about time to let loose a little. 

"Drink up, Princess," he teases.

Clarke narrows her eyes in an attempt to look ticked, but is betrayed by the smile pulling at her lips. Wordlessly, she shoots the sickly sweet liquid back, and feels its beautiful burn fall towards her stomach.

She can't help but make a face.

"Euh. I _thought_ I missed Monty's moonshine, until I actually got to taste it again."

She sits the throwing piece on the back of her hand, and sends it towards Bellamy's side of the table with a flick of her wrist. There's a satisfying  _ping_ as it rings off the metal bottom of a cup. He let's out an easy chuckle when she throws her arms up in celebration.

"I don't know," he says, swirling the cup between his fingers before emptying it in one, swift mouthful. "It's a little nostalgic. I sometimes actually like the taste."

Clarke snorts. " _Sometimes_ being after five or six cups?"

He laughs again. Clarke notices, for the first time, a sort of musical quality to it. She's never heard him laugh so much before.

"Something like that," he says. 

"What's got you in such a good mood?" she asks at the same time she thinks it. "Not that I'm complaining."

Bellamy tosses the small disc from hand to hand as he considers his answer.

"I don't know. I guess... it's the first time we really haven't  _had to think_ about anything. Do you realise that?"

She hadn't, and the thought intrigues her.

"There's nothing in the back of my mind. No crisis that needs to be averted. For once, everything is being taken care of for us. I'm just, relishing in the moment, I guess." He gives her a small, but genuine smile that she can't help but return. He has a point, after all; this is their time to unwind, the first they've had in months.

It's felt like an eternity. 

"Well, that," he adds, wriggling his eyebrows, "and the moonshine." Now, it's Clarke's turn to laugh.

"In that case, we better keep things interesting," she says suggestively, making Bellamy's heart skip a quick beat. She retreats to the refreshments table and returns with six, much larger cups, barely able to carry them all in her arms at once. When he sees what she's doing, Bellamy meets her halfway, to help. Pulling three cups from her grip, he throws her a mischievous grin. 

"Oh, yea. This is going to be  _very_ interesting."


	2. The Cup Theory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moonshine's starting to hit the spot in this scene. Bellamy is adorable. Plus!!! eskimo kisses. What could be sweeter?
> 
> Let me know what you think!! :)

Eventually (inevitably?), trying to aim becomes ridiculous, and they lose the throwing piece. They give up looking for it, and instead move to a small fire pit set up on one side of the courtyard. There's a bonfire burning in the centre of camp, nearer to the station, but there's a dance party going on and neither Bellamy nor Clarke are quite in the mood yet. The small fire is actually supposed to be for the adults, but they must have finally gotten fed up with the noise, because the place is deserted. 

"Whew! Ghos' town. Where'd e'erybody go?"

Bellamy leans forward and half sits, half trips onto the log they use as a bench. Clarke snickers softly before taking a seat next to him. As she does, his arm casually slings over her shoulders. He pulls her the last bit down, bringing her into a friendly one-armed hug. Clarke laughs again when he nuzzles his nose to the side of her head. She doesn't lean away from him.

"I think-" she laughs again, feeling him blow at the hairs on the top of her head. "I think we scared 'em off," she finishes. She takes the cup from Bellamy and has a long sip. At some point, the pair noticed they were getting pretty tipsy having a cup each, and brilliantly decided that they should share one cup between them, instead.

If they weren't so absolutely plastered, they would probably realise that the theory busts if they proceed to refill said cup twice as often.

Bellamy pulls away suddenly and pretends to looks dismayed. "Scared 'em? Uz?"

"Mhmm," Clarke hums through her smile as she tries to lean in to him again. He complies.

"Impozzible," he declares.

Clarke laughs again, and this time it's practically a giggle. She would be embarrassed, but at the moment she's too content to care. 

"Do you know you slur _soooo_ much when you're drunk?" she asks him.

"Do not," he insists, taking a sip for himself.

"Do to. Watch." She sits up on one knee to face him and he folds his knee out, so he can face her, too. She lays a forearm on each of his shoulders and leans her face in close to his.

"Impossible."

"Impozzible."

"Im **poss** ible."

"Im **poz** zible."

His brow furrows ever so slightly and a toothy grin makes its way across Clarke's face.

 _Too sweet_ , she thinks. She takes his wrist in her hand and puts his fingers to her lips.

"Im-pos-si-ble," she annunciates slowly. Bellamy drags his hand around to the back of Clarke's neck and pulls her to him. He gives her a light headbutt and leaves their foreheads touching.

"Im-pos-si-ble. There," he says proudly. She smiles again and rubs her nose against his.

"Eskimo kissez!" he exclaims.

" _What_  kisses?"

"Eskimo kisses. That's what you jus' did with your nose. My mom use'to give 'em to uz... _us_ ," he corrects, "all the time."

"What's an eskimo?" Clarke asks.

"They were people that lived in the snow. That's all I know," Bellamy answers, and that signature smirk starts to spread across his face. "I also know that you just kissed me," he says.

"Did not," says Clarke, a dubious eyebrow raised.

"Clarke kissed Bellamy," he says matter-of-factly. "Yes she did."

"Not a real kiss," she clarifies.

"Not yet," he promises.


	3. The Taste of Five in the Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok it get's a little confusing here, but basically what it happening is that Bellamy and Clarke are both blackout drunk. In case you've never been blackout drunk, what starts to happen it that you pretty much forget about things /as they occur./ Anyway, that's why it sort of jumps from here to there. I used italics to indicate when that it happening. If it's /really/ hard to understand then please let me know so I can try and fix it somehow.
> 
> Thanks! Enjoy!

After that, it's a mess. They've both had so much to drink that, at this point, things happen with no context whatsoever. It's like involuntary time travel, jumping from one situation to the next and just rolling with it.

They've somehow made their way to the bonfire, and there are shouts from several of the others as their presence becomes known.

_Bellamy! Hey, Clarke! Oh, it's a party now. Clarke! Hey, Bellamy! It's good you see you guys. Let's party!_

From what the two can tell, most of the others are just as trashed as they are. Jasper appears as if from nowhere and brings Clarke into a giant bear hug. Monty comes in from behind Bellamy and pushes them both into it, forming a four-person lump of affection.

 

* * *

 

_Bellamy is holding a cup to Clarke's lips_

_Bellamy laughing._

_Jasper laughing._

_Clarke laughing._

_The crowd cheers as Bellamy chugs a long, skinny tube filled with some variation of moonshine.  Clarke can smell it on his breath when he talks. It smells like flowers and mint and lighter fluid._

_She touches his hair and he smiles at her._

_Jasper is on Monty's shoulders. Yet he somehow seems shorter... ?_

_It's come to Clarke's attention that she is on Bellamy's shoulders. How they managed to do that without hurting anybody or thing is a thrilling mystery._

_The chicken fight is over. Bellamy has no recollection of who won. He searches the crowd for Clarke and finds her laughing. She seems fine, at least._

_Raven's smiling. Clarke's got her hands in hers and they're dancing out of time.  Clarke twirls and her eyes find Bellamy. He smiles. He's dancing with his sister._

_When Clarke looks back, Raven has a moustache. Oh wait, that's Wick. From the corner of her eye she sees Raven's dancing with Bellamy. Wick laughs._

_"Clarke!" It's Octavia. "Dance with me!"_

_Clarke is spinning with her head up and she sees the stars. She swallows the universe with her eyes._

_Jasper has a tube like earlier to his mouth. There's a white patch taped to his forehead. "What's on your head?" Bellamy asks. "I think I fell off Monty."_

_Clarke looks down and Octavia is laughing. "Where is Bellamy?" she asks. Octavia does a shrug dance and turns it into the robot. "I'm going to go find him." Octavia doesn't hear her._

_"Are you okay, Clarke?" She bristles. "Not tonight, Finn." "You should lie d-" "where's Bellamy?"_

_Miller. Monroe. Monty. Jasper (what's on your head?). Harper. Mel._

_Bellamy. She doesn't remember how she found him, but they're dancing._

_Clarke._

_"You are amazing," he tells her. Clarke laughs. She has no idea what they are talking about. "I'm having so much fun!" she says, and it's true._ _He laughs._

_Bellamy._

_There's a wolf whistle from the right. His eyes are closed but he can smell her skin. Her lips are soft as petals and they taste like five in the afternoon. When they pull apart she glows in the dark, and his vision is swallowed up by the blue in her irises. "Clarke kissed Bellamy," she says matter-of-factly. "Yes she did," he answers._

_Clarke looks to the left over Bellamy's shoulder; she's got her arms around his neck. There's Finn. He looks so lonely? "It's a party," she want's to say, "aren't you having fun?" But the next time she looks his way, he's gone._

_"Ugh, gross! Control yourselves, would you?" Bellamy pulls away. When did O get here? They were on the other side of the yard._

* * *

Suddenly, it's silent. Clarke recognises the layout of Bellamy's tent. She doesn't know how late it's gotten, but the walls are too dark for the fire to still be burning outside. She has her hand on his arm and she can't stop staring at the curves of it. She traces the lines with her index finger, memorising every dip and ripple.

"Getting shy, Princess?" he asks with a smile in his voice. She looks up at him. His brown eyes have flecks of black in them that she'd never noticed before. As if of their own accord, her fingers come up to his face. They once trace a line over his eyebrow, before weaving into the dark curls of his hair so she can pull his lips towards hers. They're soft and rich and perfect and she cannot get enough of their taste.  She's sobering up and getting drunk off Bellamy at an equal rate. Maybe there's still moonshine on his lips, she thinks, as she delicately separates them with her own. Or, maybe on his tongue, which begins gently dancing circles around hers. They push one another, each getting more aggressive as the other does, until Bellamy finally has to pull away.

"Should I walk you to your tent, Clarke?"

She shakes her head without hesitation. If she's sure of anything, it's that she doesn't want to leave his side tonight. 

"I'll stay with you," she says, and at the sound of those words, there's a comfort in Bellamy's chest that surprises him.


	4. Two Percent Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are finally over and I can update this without feeling guilty!!
> 
> Clarke struggles to remember exactly what went down last night, and finds herself pleasantly surprised.
> 
> *tried to find a non-suggestive way to word this without blowing the story and failed.
> 
> "blowing" the story. ah, fuck it.

The next morning, Clarke wakes up feeling like she's been dead for centuries. She reluctantly opens her eyes... only to become completely disoriented. There's a chair in the corner that she doesn't know where she got. On it, hangs a jacket she can already tell is much too big for her, and on the ground nearby, a pair of shoes that are equally as--

"Oh, god," she whispers, phantom images of last night slowly fading into recollection. She clamps her eyes shut tight as she becomes overtly aware of the body at her back. The heat it's emitting becomes more and more unbearable with every passing second. "Oh, god, no."

It's not that the idea of sex with Bellamy is entirely repulsive, (or at all, really. Have you met the guy? Talk about solid and seductive,) but it felt wrong. It felt cheap like this. She held all this respect for him, was beginning to feel proud that he might think of her the same way, and now she'd thrown it all away. And for what, a night of drunken passion?  _God_ , has she ever felt so stupid? And now the whole camp knows.

She slaps both hands over her face and groans as quietly as she can manage.  _The whole camp must know_ , she thinks. Innumerable images flash in sequence in her mind. They were _all over_  each other last night. _Oh_ , my  _god_.

Bellamy stirs beside her and she reflexively glances at him over her shoulder. With his back to her and his hair all disheveled, with his hands between his knees all curled up in a ball 'cos he's cold and....

He's cold. He's cold because he's over the covers.

And fully clothed.

He is over the covers and she is under them, and they both have clothes on. She tries with everything she has to remember what happened after that last kiss and her promise to stay over, but she comes up pretty much blank. She remembers more kissing and later on, a little touching, and finally  _Goodnight_ , he said, and kissed her on the nose.

_Goodnight._

She smiles. Finn has already accused Clarke of putting Bellamy on a pedestal, but he still manages to surprise her sometimes. She thinks back to her actions the previous night and is again a bit embarrassed, but in a slightly less mortifying way, she supposes. It would have been so easy. She can't imagine she could've been that mad at him, either; he was pretty far gone himself. 

And yet there he was, freezing his ass off, and looking so damn cute. Her smile becomes insuppressible and she throws her face into the pillows. When she raises her head again, all her sight can reach is the fine, looping hairs at the nape of his neck. She plays with them softly, and when he stirs again, she presses a small kiss against the muscle to his shoulder. It's guiltless and easy, barely there, but it's enough to get him to face her. 

Without opening his eyes, he pecks her forehead, so lightly it almost tickles. She's not even sure he's entirely conscious, so she asks: "Bellamy?"

"Hmm?" he hums, and it sounds roughly two percent Bellamy and ninety-eight percent hangover. 

"Thank you," comes a murmur from her lips.

"Hm..." he hums again, this time in recognition, but she knows he couldn't possibly have understood.

"You know, for not--" but just like that, his breathing levels out again and she knows he's fast asleep.

_That's okay,_  she thinks, smiling to herself.  _I still appreciate it._  She decides to let him sleep and just bring him a glass of water, instead.

Carefully, as not to shift the bed, she brings her feet to the ground and covers his shivering form with her side of the blankets. 


	5. Lesson Group Lunch Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it look so long! I was all gung-ho about exams being over and then didn't even post anything... So I gave you an extra long chapter this time to make up for it :) Thanks for reading, enjoy!

When Bellamy wakes up his first thought is that he wishes he hadn't.

His mouth feels chalky and his eyes feel like they might fall out of his head if he moves too suddenly. He vaguely recalls Clarke playing with his hair, but when he reaches behind him, his fingers only brush along cold sheets. He sighs and pulls his hand back, using both palms to rub the fog from his eyes.

 

...Wait, _what_ _the **fuck**?  
_

 

He springs sitting up and immediately regrets it when the pain from his eyes shoots around his skull like a rubber ball. Slowly and moaning, he lowers himself to the pillow once more and turns on his side. 

 _Clarke?_  Did he sleep with Clarke last night? There's a tug-of-war in his mind between which answer he hopes is right. 

 _Yes, because that means you slept with Clarke._   _No, because she'll probably be pissed. Yes, because this is the only way it_ would  _happen. No, because then, would it even really count?_

He stops momentarily to readjust his pants and, oddly enough, that's what breaks him from the strife between his two heads. He is wearing pants, and with that, he's thrown into a vivid memory from last night.

* * *

_"I'll stay with you."_

_He smiles widely and leans down to kiss her once again. He didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he would've been really disappointed to have needed to leave her side that night. It's like she is attached to a string he's swallowed; when she's not with him he's being pulled to her from somewhere inside him. Her tongue tastes like moonshine, as much as his own, and he'd lose track of which was who's if not for her lips. Her lips have a taste entirely their own; a taste he's come to know that night as solely Clarke. He craves it, even when he has it, so he pushes himself closer to her. They stumble a little, but he presses a hand to her back and they steady. She sneaks her hands, already around his waist, under the hem of his shirt and they're ice cold. Her fingers send a string of chills up his spine and neck, and bring a clarity to his head that fights for dominance with the Moonshine's blur. She runs them all over his back and hips, so he brings his own hands down to grab her ass. She bites his lip._

_They must have been gradually backing up because he feels the edge of the bed behind his knees. With a final shove, Clarke sends them both tumbling backwards onto it. She pushes his shirt up, placing desperate kisses all over his chest, briefly sucking at his nipple--"oh, shit, Clarke"--before moving down towards his navel, then past..._

_He catches his breath while she fiddles with his belt. After a while, he steals a glance at her, only to see she's still intensively trying to decipher the buckle. Her fingers stumble and she shuffles her position to get a better angle. Before he even realises what he's doing, he gently wraps his hand around her wrist._

_"Clarke?" he asks._

_She looks up at him innocently. "Yea?"_

_"You're pretty drunk, aren't you?"_

_She throws him a devilish grin and a sloppy chuckle. "Yea. So are you..." She slinks up onto the bed above him and he takes her hips in his hands, absently places a kiss on her shoulder. She hums._

_He turns her over to lay beside him. She pets his bicep with her thumb and he does the same to her waist._

_"Maybe not tonight then. What do you think?" he asks her, killing himself._

_"Mmm," she hums, but she's staring at his lips._

_"Clarke?"  She looks up at that._

_"I think you're amazing," she tells him. There's a pause. "Can I still stay?"_

_He can't help but smile at her apparent, genuine concern. "Please, stay. I don't want to leave your side tonight."_

_She nuzzle her face into the crook of his neck. "Me, too," she echoes, before looking up and kissing him another time._

_"Goodnight, brave princess," he coos, and places a light kiss on her nose._

_"Goodnight, brave Bellamy," she breathes, catching him completely off guard, but she's asleep before he can say anything more._

* * *

He sighs in what he supposes is relief. That's one mystery solved... but now, where did she go, and how did she react to waking up in his bed? Does she remember what happened? God, he hopes so.

And he hopes she doesn't regret it, because he certainly doesn't.

"Clarke! _There_ you are!" he hears...Raven(? Maybe?) call from somewhere in camp. He forces himself out of bed and, yup, it's awful. Still, he stands and gives his aching body a moment to adapt. He slips on his boots, barefoot, and doesn't bother to tie the laces before squinting his way into the sunlight. Clarke's golden waves catch his eye by the water station and he gives her a small wave. She returns it, and Raven laughs before hitting Clarke in the shoulder, so she's not looking, and neither is he when Finn practically body slams him into the side of Alpha station. 

"What the hell... Finn?" Bellamy barely spits the words out before Finn is on him again, pushing a shoving him like it's Lesson Group lunch hour.

"Yea, _what the hell_ was my question too. Who do you think you are?" Finn barks without leaving much time for an answer. "Taking advantage of Clarke like that. She's not that type of girl, Bellamy."

"Jesus, Finn, I know that! Would you--ugh--would you quit _shoving_ me and--let me explain?"

" _You_ might be the type to sleep with whoever is around but she's different, and you should be ashamed of yourself for turning her into one of your skanks."

 _That's it,_ Bellamy thinks, and he finally brings his arm out of a block to swing at Finn's jaw. He doesn't feel a crack so he knows he probably didn't break anything, but the force is enough to send Finn reeling several steps back. Bellamy straightens himself out. 

"I didn't  _turn_ Clarke into anything. She's whoever the hell she wants to be, whether she sleeps with me or not," he shouts before realising it doesn't fully help the situation, but before he can continue, Finn's fist is coming at his cheekbone. Bellamy doesn't feel the pain of it until his head's already swung to the side and he's stumbled a step back. He sees Finn coming at him in his peripheral vision and runs at him in turn. He grabs Finn's forearms before he can do any damage, pushing the younger boy back a step or two before switching his grip to one hand and using the other to throw a second punch. His cheek itches where Finn's fist connected and he can't help but think it's split again. Perfect.

Finn's on the ground on all fours, rubbing at his face and panting. He doesn't seem to be finished but Bellamy takes the opportunity to at least explain himself properly.

"Look, it's not what you think happened. I know she's not like that and I didn't take advantage of her," he spells out, calmly as he can. "Wouldn't," he hastens to add.

"She was in  _no condition_ to make decisions and you  _knew that,_ " Finn snarls, seething. He looks up at Bellamy with what can only be absolute loathing. "I told her it was stupid, but she trusted you, and you used that against her!" He tries for another jump at Bellamy but this time Clarke is in his way, utterly flustered and trying to calm the boy down.

"Finn!" she shouts once or twice before he stops. Bellamy steps back and catches his breath, ready to pounce if she cries out in any kind of distress.

"Finn," she says again, more quietly. Bellamy scowls at the way it falls off her tongue. "It's not what you think, okay? Nothing happened. We went to bed and we slept. That's it." 

Finn seems to consider this, breathing heavily and looking between the two of them. 

"I saw you," he says to her, his expression becoming pained. "You were kissing him," he adds dumbly.

"Yea, I was," she answers, and even Bellamy can't read her expression at that. "But we didn't sleep together, and he didn't take advantage of me. He could have, but he didn't." She steps backwards towards Bellamy and he puts his arm around her, hand above her elbow and lightly tugging her closer. She leans his way but doesn't move a step. She's staring at Finn unwaveringly, who's eyes dart between the two of them with a kind of pitiable bewilderment. 

"I thought... I thought you and I would..."

"Finn," she says, and Bellamy can hear the tenderness and pain in it. It pinches at him somewhere in his chest but he knows he can't blame her. Things are complicated. "I...can't. I really just...can't, I'm sorry." She stares at him a little while longer, but Finn just stares at the ground. She eventually gives up on finding something else to say, and gives Bellamy's arm a squeeze--"Come find me,"-- before turning her back and stepping around him, towards the medical tent.

Finn's still looking at the ground and Bellamy can't look away. He'd seen the lengths this boy had gone to for his love of Clarke. But he wasn't the only one who wanted,  _needed_ Clarke back, Bellamy could finally stand to admit.

He'd just been the only one to lose her voice along the way. 


	6. Me Too

Clarke fills the cup in her hand as full as she can before downing the whole thing. She refills it for Bellamy, but is intercepted by Raven on her way back to his tent.

"Clarke!  _There_ you are!" She calls. The smile on her lips transforms into a smirk Clarke isn't sure she likes the look of.

"Hey Raven," she answers casually.

"Pretty wild night, huh," The other girl says suggestively. A knowing smile slowly curves the corners of Clarke's mouth.

"Yea, no kidding," she says, playing along. No doubt this is about the Bellamy fiasco, but Clarke isn't going to make this easy on her. 

"You, you know, sleep well?" Raven asks, and it's barely a question. "Or at all?" 

"I slept very well."

Raven's eyebrows jump, and she whistles, long and low. 

"Shut up, not like that," Clarke elaborates, thoroughly flushed, but it's too late.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, I'm sure," says Raven, sounding not at all sure. "Was it dirty? Was it rough? You guys are always at each others' throats, I bet he was just dying to teach you a lesson in--"

"Raven!" Clarke gapes. "No! Honestly, nothing happened. Not like that, anyway. We just slept next to each other."

Raven puffs. "Lame, and I thought you two were finally getting somewhere."

"I don't know," Clarke says bashfully. "I wouldn't say we didn't get  _anywhere_..." Raven raises a questioning eyebrow.

"You're going to try and keep it going? You guys were pretty drunk."

"You don't think I should?" Clarke asks, worried.

"Well, do you like him?"

"I don't know."

"Like how," Raven presses.

"Like, maybe. I'm not sure," Clarke stammers. "I think I could. I never really thought of him that way before, but now..." She glances towards the tent, and Bellamy emerges at that very moment. He smiles when he sees her and gives a little wave. She waves back.

Raven's eyes flash between the two of them and she laughs.

"You know what, go for it," she says, knocking Clarke in the shoulder. "You never know what might happen. Could be the start of something great."

"Thanks," Clarke mutters, rubbing her shoulder even though it doesn't really hurt.

Suddenly, there's shouting from the other side of camp. When Clarke looks over, Finn and Bellamy are throwing punches at each other. She rushes over to try and break it up.

 "I told her it was stupid, but she trusted you, and you used that against her!" Finn shouts, and Clarke throws herself in front of him before he can make another jump at Bellamy.

"Finn!" She yells. "Finn!" Again. Finally, his gaze falls on her and he appears to relax.

"Finn," she starts again, more gently. "It's not what you think, okay? Nothing happened. We went to bed and we slept. That's it." She hopes he understands, but his expression shifts from anger to heartache, and she suddenly wishes he was still trying to throw punches. 

"I saw you," he tells her, eyes begging her to tell him he'd imagined it. "You were kissing him."

"Yea, I was," she states, trying to look impartial--only stating the facts--but the memory of Bellamy's lips on hers sends her into a flurry of mixed emotions. With Finn right in front of her like this, it's hard not to be reminded of what was. She'd loved him, once. It's not a feeling easily forgotten, even after everything that's happened.

"But we didn't sleep together, and he could have taken advantage of me, but he didn't." Her body subconsciously searches for Bellamy, and she finds herself taking a step back. She doesn't realise it until she feels his hand on her arm. She leans towards him, but doesn't break eye contact with Finn. He seems to consider the sight in front of him for a short while, before understanding the situation.

"I thought... I thought you and I would..." The anguished expression on his face makes Clarke's heart stutter in her chest. She rakes her brain for the words to express how she feels in that instant but falls short.

"Finn, I..." she begins. "....Can't. I really just..." Once again, words fail her. "Can't," she says finally. "I'm sorry." Her eyes try to find his, try to convey what her mouth isn't able to, but he's looking at the ground and won't face her. She sifts through her mind a moment longer for a better explanation, but can't find one, and finally, she turns to go. She gives Bellamy's arm a light squeeze as she passes, tells him to come find her in the medical tent. He nods but doesn't follow as she leaves the two of them behind her, not so much as throwing a glance over her shoulder.

* * *

Clarke is in the medical tent alone longer than she'd hoped. She's a little rattled after the whole altercation with Finn, and she jumps at the opportunity to distract herself when Bellamy enters. 

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" she immediately asks, approaching him. His cheek's been split open again and she tisks. 

"I'm fine," he assures her. "It only itches a little."

"Let me clean it up for you. Here, sit down," she directs, motioning towards a cot in the middle of the space. He does as he's told.

"What the hell happened?" she finally asks, picking up a cotton ball in some tweezers and soaking it in isopropyl, silently grateful yet again for the Ark coming to join them on Earth. Moonshine was a shoddy replacement at best. 

"I don't know," he tells her, honestly. "He just came up to me and started shoving me. He said I should be ashamed of myself for taking advantage of you last night."

"Well you didn't. Close your eyes," she says, turning towards him and dabbing the cotton against his wound. "So just ignore him," she adds absentmindedly. 

"I wish I could ignore the way you said his name," he says, and winces.

"Sorry, does it hurt?" she asks.

"No, it's fine, really. I'd just told myself I wouldn't say anything about it," he says ambiguously.

"About me and Finn?" she guesses. The look on his face tells her she's right.

"I know things between you guys didn't exactly end smoothly," he explains. "But, last night... Clarke I--"

"I know," she says, cutting him off, and sends a smile his way. "Me too."

"You don't even know what I was going to say," he tells her.

"I think I can guess," she asserts. "And I'm telling you, me too."

It's silent for a long while as she continues to clean his wound. When she's done, she puts some antibiotic ointment on it and tapes it up, running her thumb over the tape a couple extra times for good measure. Their eyes lock but she doesn't stop, only gentles her touch.

"This just healed," she tells him, as if he didn't know.

"It'll heal again," he reassures her.

"Bellamy," she breathes, and he cuts her off.

"It's not your fault."

"But I'm--" 

Her sentence is cut short when his lips find hers. It's slow and deliberate, completely different from last night, but it's a kiss nonetheless. When he pulls away, he's still close enough that they're eyelashes brush together.

"Clarke, last night... I need to know it meant something to you. It meant something to me, and I'm not ready to let that go," he insists. She kisses him back, lightly, briefly, and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Didn't I already tell you?" she teases. "Me too."


	7. Bonus (aka The Hunting Party)

"Bellamy, would you  _please_ quiet down? You're scaring it away," a very frustrated Clarke whispers into the side of her arrow. The young man behind her is lolling against a tree with his legs crossed. He seems remarkably less concerned than she, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his lips. He snorts. 

"We've got more than enough food for the week, Princess. If we catch too much, it'll be a pain to store, and it never tastes as good; you know that," he tells her. 

"We can stand just this one more. Maybe we'll be hungrier this week." The hare scampers off and Clarke relaxes her bow with a long sigh.

Bellamy quirks an eyebrow, but she keeps her back to him and misses it. So, he pushes off the tree and slinks stealthily behind her, at last using his hunting steps like she's been begging him to for an hour. 

She jumps when he speaks. "You're just upset you didn't shoot anything this time," he baits.

"Did to," she retorts with a huff.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right. I'd forgotten about the squirrel." He holds the tiny animal away from the rest, with only two fingers, for effect. "Can you blame me?"

Clarke wheels on him, seemingly affronted. "Well  _excuse_ me. Are you  _looking_ for a fight?"

He drops the squirrel back onto the tarp. "I'm  _looking_ for ways to get the girl of my dreams to talk to me for five seconds," Bellamy drawls with an exaggerated eye roll. He puts his hands on her hips and steps closer, so he can butt their foreheads together. She mustn't be too mad at him, because she doesn't resist him in the slightest. He smiles at the thought. 

"Also," he adds as a tentative afterthought, "I kind of want to go home?" He keeps that stupid smile plastered on his lips and Clarke kicks herself for accidentally returning it. He  _was_ just insulting her squirrel, after all. 

"I'm a great hunter," she insists.

"You think I don't know that? Not the first time we've been out together, Princess."

"I'm just double-checking."

"You're a great hunter," he assures her. "Remember that boar? He was in full sprint, and you still hit him dead in the eye." He points to his own eye as he says it. 

"I did," she says confidently, stepping away from him. She kneels by the tarp and starts to fold the edges over their (Bellamy's) impressive haul. "And don't patronise me, smartass. I get enough of that from my mother."

"I mean it! Amazing hunter." She smiles to herself but doesn't otherwise respond. "You caught _me_ , didn't you?" He flirts, batting his eyes, which of course she doesn't see. What the hell.

"Clarke," he says suddenly. She looks up at him, finally, tossing the hair out of her face. 

"What?" she asks when he doesn't say anything else. He stays silent, eyes boring into hers. She turns to face him completely and breathes a small, annoyed sigh.

" _What_?" she repeats. _  
_

" _Clarke_ ," he calls again, more strongly. She knows what he's saying but she can't figure out where it's coming from. She stands and slowly makes her way towards him. 

"What's your problem," she says, but she's not really asking. Instead, she weaves a hand into his hair and she's looking at him like his smile holds all the secrets of the Universe. She kisses him slowly and he gives back like he's been waiting for a lifetime. He sighs contently when they pull apart, but when he opens his eyes there's a spark in them. 

"Jesus, it's about time," he huffs.

"What the hell are you talking about, Blake," she says absentmindedly, taking his hips in her hands and stepping closer. She shimmies his torso a little and scrunches her nose at him. 

"Would it kill you to act a little  _sexier_ , Princess? Sheesh. It's the two of us in the middle of the woods," he pushes her hair back and sneaks a hand behind her head, "who knows what could happen," he suggests with a smirk.

"Mmm," Clarke hums, letting her eyelids fall half closed. "The two of us, and a pile of dead animals. That  _is_ pretty hot," she teases. He rolls his eyes. 

"Not really important," he says. When he looks back at her, she can tell his mood's grown slightly more serious. Her heart beats a little faster and she watches him lick his lips. He pulls her up to him but doesn't actually kiss her, deciding instead to tilt his head at the last second. She's not laughing at him anymore.

"I thought you wanted to go home," she says, and it's almost comically quiet. She doesn't care, and neither does he. 

"Not really important," he says again. She finally caves, unable to take his teasing any longer, and brings her lips to his. She jumps to wrap her legs around his waist and his hands wander down to her butt for a steadier hold. She moves her lips down his jaw and showers his neck with small kisses, as he carries them farther into the clearing.

* * *

Back at Alpha Station, the others don't find Bellamy's hunting abilities quite as impressive as they might have,  had the pair not returned two hours later than expected. Bellamy blames it on the hare, and Clarke actually let's him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Porky Pig voice*  
> Tha-th-th-th-that's all, folks! Thank you so much for reading and for the feedback :) I haven't been writing much lately because I've been pretty busy with school, so it was nice to get back in the game. Feel free to let me know things you particularly liked or didn't, in case I decide to write any more of these! It's much appreciated!
> 
> Until next time,  
> A


End file.
